


constellations

by The_IPRE



Category: Archive 81 (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Late Night Conversations, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:15:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25991989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_IPRE/pseuds/The_IPRE
Summary: Flames flicker under the kettle, glancing across the metal and catching Nicholas’ eye. “Back in sixth or seventh grade, Mom and I moved out to somewhere in the country. It was a little town, not nearly the light pollution we have here in our lovely city.” Nicholas flexes his fingers around the handle of his cane, the weight of his father’s relic fitting perfectly to his grip. “I used to like sneaking out on cloudless nights.”Static Man lets out a laugh, honest and louder than any of the previous. “Dude, of course your version of sneaking out was to go stargazing. This explains everything about you.”
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	constellations

**Author's Note:**

> at the missing-human-interaction phase of quarantine lads

Nicholas’ eyes are burning from how long he has been awake, but he can’t find it in himself to sleep quite yet. 

His brain is still spinning along far too quickly, for one thing, and his fingers itch towards his journal of rituals anytime he isn’t paying attention. It is tempting to stay awake just a bit longer, to see what new pieces he can put together to get a look at the shape of the world.

His body doesn’t agree, though, far distanced from his college all-nighters and ready to be asleep by three in the morning.

Regrettably for all parties involved, his mind still doesn’t seem to agree, and so he stands with a sigh. 

Takes hold of his cane, turns off the light of his desk, waits for his eyes to adjust.

Nicholas knows the apartment well enough in the dark, though, has spent enough sleepless nights wandering the rooms without wanting to turn on lights and disturb the carefully cultivated ambiance.

As he walks to the kitchen, he catches the faint sound of a buzzing and whirring that softens the edges of the air, one that quickly coalesces into the familiar sound of an active tape recorder. 

Entering the dark room with the noise of footsteps and the tapping of his cane, Nicholas is met by Static Man’s own general low-grade buzzing. He gives off a faint light from where he is perched on the countertop, flickering and shifting to illuminate a pose that is almost cross-legged.

Static Man’s buzzing shifts tone in a way that lets Nicholas know that he is seen, and if it were any other time he probably would have wondered at the fact that he was now able to reliably read his friend based off of nothing but the changes of swirling static and teeth.

It isn’t any other time, though, and so as he nods and goes to fill up the kettle, he folds the thought away for later. The air is soft and dark, suddenly faintly illuminated by the blue glow of the burner’s flames, and the pressures of existing are felt a little less keenly than they have been as of late.

Nicholas pulls a mug down from a cabinet behind Static Man, who ducks to let the door open and close over his head. He is being quieter than normal, focus locked on the tape recorder before him, but Nicholas won’t be the one to break the atmosphere. 

The ritual of making tea is a calming one, anyway, mundane in a way that has almost become unfamiliar. 

Nicholas has placed the sachet of chamomile tea in his mug and thrown away the wrapping, leaning against a counter and letting his eyes slip shut. There isn’t much difference between the dark of the kitchen and the dark behind his eyelids, and when Static Man speaks up his voice sounds as though it is right next to Nicholas.

“I wonder where Orion is.” His voice is voice subdued, not yet a whisper but quiet as though he isn’t looking to break the peace either. 

Nicholas’ eyes open. “Pardon?” Static Man is carefully not turned towards him.

“The constellation. Belt dude in the sky. I used to be able to always pick him out of the sky. Big Dipper, too.” Static Man laughs, a soft noise almost lost in his ambient crackling. His voice is the kind of quiet that says _we won’t bring this up in the morning_. “Honestly, it’s a good way to pick up chicks. Or dudes. Really, anybody who falls for an arm around the shoulder and a sliver of competence.”

Nicholas looks out the window, but the lights of the city block out any potential for stars. “I’m afraid that I can’t help you with that.” In the darkness of the kitchen, he is able to pick up on the faint shifting glow running through Static Man’s body.

There is barely a moment of buzzing quiet before Static Man speaks again. “Honestly, I miss seeing the stars. And- yeah, I know, I know, we’re all working to get me my body back, I’m grateful, but.” A crackling and useless exhale diffuses from somewhere around his head. “Like, there was this time we went on a road trip when I was a kid, I can’t even remember where we were going to but I just remember looking out the window and.”

He is quiet, and across the room a minute ticks past on the oven’s clock. “Look, it was like the world was so much bigger than anything I’d ever imagined. More stars than I’d ever seen, all those cliches.” Static Man’s laugh is probably meant to lighten the weight of his comments, strip them of meaning and turn them into a joke, but it falls flat. 

Flames flicker under the kettle, glancing across the metal and catching Nicholas’ eye. “Back in sixth or seventh grade, Mom and I moved out to somewhere in the country. It was a little town, not nearly the light pollution we have here in our lovely city.” Nicholas flexes his fingers around the handle of his cane, the weight of his father’s relic fitting perfectly to his grip. “I used to like sneaking out on cloudless nights.”

Static Man lets out a laugh, honest and louder than any of the previous. “Dude, of _course_ your version of sneaking out was to go stargazing. This explains everything about you.”

“Maybe so,” Nicholas says, turning off the burner before the kettle can quite whistle. Morgan is – presumably – asleep in the other room, and he doesn’t want to be _that_ roommate. Besides, the soft quiet they have cultivated is nice, familiar and comfortable like the steam rising from his tea. 

The mug is hot in his hands, close to burning but he holds it anyway. The sensation is grounding, pulling him into the moment and settling him in his skin like he is any other thirty year old, glasses fogging in the steam.

The kitchen is darker now without the stove’s flame, retreating back into the shapeless and quiet white noise of before. When Nicholas looks to Static Man, glasses beginning to clear, he would swear that he could pick out the constellations formed from his teeth.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave a comment or kudos, or come talk to me on tumblr at [the-ipre](https://the-ipre.tumblr.com)!


End file.
